


of under me you so quite new

by ambitioncutsusdown



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Grinding, M/M, Poetry Mention, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2001609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambitioncutsusdown/pseuds/ambitioncutsusdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, coming home to Gally and weed is probably the best thing ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of under me you so quite new

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nomunun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomunun/gifts).



> written for sam's (aka [punkgally's](http://nomunun.co.vu/)) birthday uwu  
> he asked for "minally shotgunning" and i swear it started out like that but along the way it became slightly more self indulgent (aka i added poetry) so now it's a mixture between??? both? yeah. i hope that's ok because the shotgunning got sort of pushed aside near the end. i am incapable of doings things, i know.  
> either way i hope you like it and you're happy with it!!! 
> 
> lines (and title) are from e e cumming's "i like my body when it's with your" 
> 
> (unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine)

The first thing Minho notices when he walks in, is that their room smells vaguely like pot, and he can’t even be annoyed at it.

Instead he just shakes his head with a fond smile and closes the door again, follows the noise of Gally’s music until he finds him sprawled out in their bed, lying on his back; eyes closed and his foot tapping along to the beat of whatever obscure indie band track he’s currently listening to.

“Hi,” Minho calls out to get his attention, but all he gets is a quiet hum and Gally lifting his hand a bit more – and it’s only then that Minho notices he’s _still_ smoking, joint tangled between his fingers.

“Hi Shakespeare.”

Gally’s voice is deep, slightly rough, and definitely the thing that made Minho shiver. He snorts, stepping further into the room until he’s close enough to sit down on the edge of the bed. “Cummings today, actually,” he murmurs distractedly, too busy staring at the sliver of skin that’s visible between the hem of Gally’s shirt and the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Whatever, geek.”

“Literature student.”

“ _Whatever_.”

Minho laughs, nudging Gally’s side until he gets the hint and hands him the joint he’s holding, and Minho easily brings it to his lips in inhales, letting his eyes fall shut as he holds his breath for a second, then slowly lets it out again, blowing out the smoke, a lazy smile spreading on his face.

Really, coming home to Gally and weed is probably the best thing ever.

He takes another drag, shifting on the bed and not resisting the urge to slide a hand up Gally’s chest, fingers tangled in the cloth of his shirt so he can tug it up, reveal more of Gally’s chest – who lets out a noise but doesn’t protest, just smiles at him.

“Who is that Cummings guy even,” Gally mumbles a second later while he takes the cigarette back from Minho. “What the fuck did he write? Is he that guy who complains about the best minds of his generation being destroyed by madness or whatever?”

Laughing again, Minho shakes his head. “No,” he mumbles, brushing his fingertips slowly over  Gally’s stomach. "That’s Ginsberg.”

Maybe it’s his imagination, or maybe Gally’s really seeking his touch, but fact remains that he’s still arching his back while bringing the joint to his lips again, not breaking their eye contact when he inhales. “Then what does Cummings do?” he mumbles around a mouthful of smoke before releasing it.

Minho bites his lip with a smile, skilled fingertips sliding over Gally’s exposed skin, taking a second to marvel at the contrast in their skin tones. “Cummings…” he mumbles distractedly. When he glances up, he notices Gally has closed his eyes, and without thinking about it, he reaches over him and grabs a pen from their nightstand.

Gally flinches when it touches his skin but he doesn’t protest in any way, which makes Minho smile. “ _I like my body when it’s with your body_ ,” he whispers, writing along as he speaks, a trail of words starting at Gally’s hip and traveling along the waistband of his sweats to the other side. Goosebumps appear on his skin and Minho’s not sure if the noise he’s let out means something good or bad.

When he can see Gally licking his lips, he goes with good.

“ _It is so quite new a thing_ ,” he continues, letting his words go upwards, the swirl of his letters covering up scars from long ago that never quite left Gally’s skin. It’s been a while since Minho saw them this close. “ _Muscles better and nerves more_.”

He takes the joint Gally is still holding and brings it to his lips, eyes fluttering closed as he inhales. Everything’s starting to get fuzzy around the edges, leaving a pleasant warmth in his body; a feeling of _belonging_ and _safe_ , although that’s probably more because of Gally. He can’t remember ever having had that feeling when smoking with Newt or Alby.

Opening his eyes again, Minho takes in the sight of Gally underneath him; lips saliva-slicked and skin darkened with smudges of ink.

“ _I like your body_.” It’s out before Minho knows it.

Gally keens low in his throat.

 “ _I like what it does_ ,” Minho whispers, pressing his fingertips over the words he wrote earlier before picking up his pen and adding more, ignore the shivers that shake Gally’s body or the not-quite-moans that leave his lips. “ _I like its hows_.” He briefly pauses to wonder how long it’ll take Gally to wash off the ink. He concludes that he doesn’t care; or that he hopes it’ll take a long time. That Gally will carry around these words – not _his_ words, but at least he painted them on his skin – for a while and will think of him whenever he sees them.

“ _I like to feel the spine of your body and its bones_ ,” when Minho finally reaches Gally’s chest, he can feel Gally’s hands on his hips and back and sides and thighs and everywhere, gripping limbs and grazing skin. His head is thrown back and he’s most definitely moaning.

Minho grins.

“ _And the trembling-firm-smoothness_ ,” he stops for only a second, casting a glance up at Gally’s face. There’s a red flush dusting his cheeks and his eyes are nearly dark, eyelids heavy, making them flutter shut every few seconds. “ _And which I will again_ ,” a pause for Minho to lick his lips, “ _and again and again_ ,” another pause, in which he takes another drag, lips curling around the joint as he smiles and keeps the smoke in his mouth. “ _Kiss_.”

The word’s breathed into Gally’s mouth, along with the smoke, and Minho makes sure to stay still and keep Gally’s head tipped back, just breathing together for long moments until he finally kisses him with slow, teasing strokes of tongue.

Gally keens again, his hand finding its way to Minho’s hair. He’s not guiding him or adjusting his angle, so Minho figures it’s merely something to hold on to, which he can appreciate.

Another thing he can appreciate is when Gally rocks his hips up, searching for friction; which Minho happily gives to him by grinding down, and now it’s his time to moan.

At some point his pen slips away but he makes sure to not drop the cigarette – they’ve had to deal with the burnt spots before and it’s not fun – and maybe it’s five minutes later or maybe it’s an hour later, but finally Gally breaks the kiss for air. Though he doesn’t let go of the hand tangled in the back of Minho’s shirt, or the one he’s had in his hair all along.

“ _I like kissing this and that of you_ ,” Minho whispers, a little uneven and a lot breathless, accentuating his words with another roll of his hips.

“I’ve noticed.”

Minho doesn’t pay attention to Gally’s reaction, just keeps moving his hips – a slow and steady pace, dragging his body along Gally’s until they’re both shuddering and gasping, Minho’s voice barely above a whisper when he talks. “ _I like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz of your electric furr, and what-is-it comes over parting flesh_.”

A “fuck, that’s hot,” escapes Gally, a noise like someone punched him, sharp nails digging in Minho’s back where he’s managed to tug his shirt up. Minho arches into them nonetheless, the sting and brief spark of pain making his eyes roll back. “ _And eyes big love-crumbs_ ,” he’s stumbling over his words now. Can’t even make sense out of them anymore despite knowing them by heart.

Gally tugs him down for another kiss, mouth still tasting like weed and smoke and everything Minho wants in life. He’s sure the lines on Gally’s skin are nothing more than blotches by now, smeared by sweaty hands and because of clumsy movements.

Skin stained dark with ink.

Minho moans into Gally’s mouth, rocking down again until they’re pressed so close there isn’t even air left between their bodies, or in their lungs, but they refuse to break apart. Feels too good, feels too close. Someone groans and the skin on Minho’s back is almost scratched raw. He doesn’t know when exactly he started gripping Gally’s arm, but he _does_ know that he’s holding it so tightly there’ll be bruises in the shape of his fingerprints tomorrow.

“ _And possibly I like the thrill_ ,” he whispers, but that’s as far as he gets; breath catching in his throat and making him unable to finish.

“Come on,” Gally says instead, mouth and wet as he slides his lips along Minho’s jaw, nipping and sucking – not enough for a mark to show up, but more than enough to make Minho think about it anyway; and without realizing when, he’s completely lost all rhythm and finesse. He’s bucking his hips down firmly, irregular and clumsy, and neither of them cares about it.

Not when Minho forgets everything around them, completely lost in Gally and his skin and his movements and his moans; lost in everything he cares about most in the world, and he grinds down two or three more times before his orgasm catches up on him, leaving him a tense mess of trembling muscles and black spots and shaky keens, all gasped directly into Gally’s ear.

He’s not sure when exactly Gally comes, but he knows it’s somewhere in between him moaning Gally’s name and him finally catching his breath. Gally’s still shuddering when he does, not quite moaning and not quite whimpering, lips bitten red and curled into a grin that makes Minho fall a little bit in love with him. Again.

“Well,” he mutters, kissing the corner of Gally’s mouth.

“Can’t move,” comes his reply, “can’t breathe.”

“You’re dirty.”

“You wrote all over me, of course I am.”

Minho shakes his head with a smile, peppering feather light kisses over Gally’s face – from the blush on his cheeks to the tip of his noise and each and every freckle in between. “No, I mean. You came in your pants.”

A soft laugh, a swat to his back. “So did you.”

There’s no denying that, so Minho just shrugs and sighs.

“I think we burnt another hole in our sheets.”

Gally huffs, “which means we wasted weed.”

Minho laughs and kisses him again.


End file.
